


kiss it better, baby

by akadefenders



Series: hannigram fic requests [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Image, Body Worship, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Getting Together, Grinding, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Nudes, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Will Graham Loves Dogs, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, accidental nudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akadefenders/pseuds/akadefenders
Summary: "The idea of being intimate with Hannibal at all, crossing that final step, it was overwhelming. It was unimaginable. Letting him see all of him when he couldn’t bear to look at himself was a terrifying notion. He sighed. The scars were not going to leave him. Would he hold himself back forever because of them?"After his battle with the Dragon, Will struggles with the way his body looks with the bevy of scars he now has. In order to feel more comfortable with himself, he takes nudes for the very first time. But what will happen when he accidentally sends them to Hannibal?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: hannigram fic requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163090
Comments: 24
Kudos: 238





	kiss it better, baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunnywaitress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnywaitress/gifts).



Will walked his way up the hill in the blazing afternoon sun, waders on, lugging a substantial catch of salmon. His curls stuck to the back of his neck, plastered with sweat. He relished the physical effort, the thrill of the lure, the satisfaction of the catch. The last year had been a blur of rest and pain and recovery, pushing through the knot of scars in his shoulders until he could hold a fishing rod again. Now, every fish he caught was a small personal victory for him.

He bypassed the front door of the house, rounding to the back and entering through the wooden kissing gate. The path into the house was overgrown with salal berry bushes on either side, green and flowering with their tiny white bells, filling the air with a pleasant and heavy aroma. Their home was surrounded by pacific dogwood trees, the white flowers creating a pleasing tableau with the shrubs. Will always felt a strange peace as he entered their cottage.

He made his way through the path, boots leaving footprints on the dirt. He veered off towards the wooden shed in their backyard that he had claimed for his own. Will opened the door to see the pleasant array of his den - his table with his lures, the three boat engines he was currently working on, the wall where he mounted his fishing rods. Putting his catch and equipment down, he took off his muddy boots and waders, cleaning them thoroughly in the sink before hanging them out to dry. Feeling the trickles of hunger through his stomach, he quickly put away his tackle box, lines and rod, washing his hands thoroughly.

Will took a surreptitious sniff of himself. He smelled like fish, saltwater and sweat. He winced a little imagining how bad he would smell to Hannibal. There was nothing to do about it. He’d put the fish in the freezer then excuse himself to the shower quickly before lunch. 

Slipping his feet into his normal shoes, Will left and locked the shed, catch in hand. As he opened the back door, he heard panting and tiny paws clicking against the hardwood floors. Callie’s smiling face, tongue lolling, appeared from around the corner and she came up to Will, nosing at his knees, looking for a pat. 

“Hey Callie girl!” he cooed, ruffling the fur on her head. He knelt down and let her nose at his face, pushing her away with a laugh when she tried to lick him. 

“Sit!” he commanded, giving her a dog treat from his pocket when she obliged. 

“Hello, Will.”

Will looked up to see Hannibal leaning against the door jamb, looking at him with fondness. He was in his version of what he considered casual - crisp white dress shirt tucked into black trousers, neatly pressed, an off-white apron tied over the top. He had been cooking.

“Hannibal,” said Will softly. 

“Is that my fish?” he asked.

Will wordlessly slid the large bucket over to Hannibal as Callie laid down next to him, head on his knee, demanding affection. Inside were two medium sized chinook salmon, silvery pink scales gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the window, mouths open and agape, eyes staring unseeingly into space. He absentmindedly rubbed her belly as Hannibal leaned over to inspect the fish, awaiting his judgement. 

“Beautiful catch, Will,” he complimented, smiling down at him.

Will nodded his head in thanks, lips creasing into a pleased smile. He looked down at Callie instead of maintaining eye contact with Hannibal, overwhelmed.

“Why don’t you go and shower, I’ll take care of this. By the time you return, our lunch will be ready.”

He nodded again, leaving Callie curled up on the floor, walking past Hannibal with a wince. He really must smell bad for Hannibal to suggest he shower.

He walked to the bathroom they both shared and quickly stripped, avoiding looking in the mirror. Dumping his clothes in the hamper, he quickly got into the shower stall and turned on the water. When they had moved into the picturesque property, Will had spent a few weeks updating the home to Hannibal’s specifications. Which is how they ended up in a cottage that looked like something from Snow White or Cinderella on the outside but had an expensive Italian marble shower stall with a high pressure rain head on the inside. It was like the house itself had a person suit. 

It may have seemed incongruous to some but it worked for them. Hannibal could appreciate the finer things in life, enjoying the pleasure of cooking once more with stainless steel appliances and spending the evenings playing on their vintage harpsichord while Will appreciated the rustic living space, remote location, built in fireplace and overgrown garden. They got to enjoy the fruits of each other’s labour, eating the fish Will caught and Hannibal cooked as meals, spending the evenings in front of the fire Will built listening to Hannibal play his original compositions. It was a comfortable way to live. Will found himself growing dangerously used to it.

As the water beat down on his body, Will reflected on Hannibal. He had been gentle with him. Will kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things between them had been so easy, so effortless, it felt like he was living a dream. Could things have been like this the whole time? If he had left with him the fateful night of their last supper? Or perhaps if they had slipped away together after Muskrat Farm? Will knew Hannibal had desires - consumptive ones. They had not hunted together but Will knew there was a yet at the end of that sentence. He did not know what Hannibal was waiting for but he had yet to bring it up.

Will wondered if he wanted to hunt. That night on the bluff had been phantasmagorical. Some nights he lay awake in his room, eyes closed, reliving those moments. A part of him wanted to feel that bloodlust again with Hannibal, to feel that intimacy, to put his cheek on his chest and just breathe. Those nights he was filled with a tenderness that hurt with its intensity and a longing that grew too large for his body, expanding in fits and bursts throughout him. His desire for a closeness with Hannibal came on the back of their newfound dynamic - perfectly polite, even enjoyable but with an unspoken tension that seemed to buzz inside Will endlessly.

He knew Hannibal loved him. Bedelia had told him as much, but everything the man did for him only seemed to confirm it. Even battered and bruised and broken, Hannibal had been happier than Will had ever known him. His spirits could not be lowered even on the worst of nights. And his eyes...Will had never had someone look at him the way Hannibal did. Molly had loved him but even she had not looked satiated every time he so much as walked into a room. The depth of devotion Hannibal had for him was terrifying. 

But to say that Will did not feel the same would be a lie. Some days he imagined what it would be like to kiss Hannibal. He found himself staring at the other man’s mouth as he ate, and imagined it was his own flesh that entered him. It left him hard and aching at the dinner table, and embarrassed to boot. He looked at Hannibal’s hands as they sliced vegetables, ran over black and white keys, sharpened a pencil with his favourite scalpel. He imagined them all over him.

There was just one thing holding him back. Will soaped his body with a washcloth and felt the many scars he had accumulated. The ones on his cheek and forehead, the ones in his shoulders, bullets and knives, the smile on his abdomen. He was a mess. He couldn’t even stand to look at his face in the mirror some days. Hannibal meanwhile looked the same. A year older, and all that happened was that his hair grew a bit more silver. It only made him look unfairly handsome in Will’s opinion.

The idea of being intimate with Hannibal at all, crossing that final step, it was overwhelming. It was unimaginable. Letting him see all of him when he couldn’t bear to look at himself was a terrifying notion. He sighed. The scars were not going to leave him. Would he hold himself back forever because of them?

He turned off the water and dried himself off with a towel monogrammed with his initials. He smiled fondly at Hannibal’s over the top antics. Monogramming towels, honestly. As he dried himself off, he looked at the fogged mirror and sighed. With one hand, he wiped the steam away and stared hard, looking at himself. What did Hannibal see in him that made him have that look in his eyes? Will supposed he had been a good looking man once, but now...He sighed again and turned away, wrapping the towel tightly around his waist.

Getting dressed was something else that made him feel slightly discombobulated. All his clothes had been bought by Hannibal. Every time he got dressed, it made him feel as though he was wearing them just for Hannibal and Hannibal’s eyes alone. He could be wearing all the layers in the world yet when that gaze fell upon him, Will felt more naked than he would have with no clothes on. It was another layer of intimacy, another layer of possession. One some level, he was fascinated by Hannibal’s choices. All the fabrics he bought were expensive and high quality but he stuck to Will’s sense of style. Block colours, no paisley or windowpane, flannels, woollen sweaters, even denims. It was almost surreal how easily Hannibal understood Will, how much he noticed and cared for Will’s comfort. It was like there was a message woven into the fabric - I do not wish to change you, only elevate what is already there.

Will didn’t think Hannibal realised that by giving him these clothes, he was opening a window for Will to look into his soul. Or perhaps he did. Perhaps that was the point. Sometimes you could never know with the man. 

With a smile he pulled on his charcoal grey sweater and left to go to the kitchen for lunch. 

His day passed as usual. He ate a lunch that would have fit into any Michelin star restaurant, with cake for dessert, baked with handpicked salal berries from their garden. He engaged in eccentric conversation skirting through a myriad of topics from Hannibal’s sudden interest in the five types of salmon found in British Columbia to the historiography of torture rituals in ancient Sweden. They drank wine and took Callie for a walk. Hannibal was surprisingly good with dogs, Will found, treating Callie with just as much respect as he would any other house guest. He learned Will’s recipe for dog food and followed it religiously. He made sausage from scratch and always saved some for her. He accompanied Callie and Will on every evening walk and assisted in her training. It warmed Will’s heart to see the two of them together. 

That night, as Will said good night to Hannibal at his bedroom door, he felt his body enter his bedroom and his heart another. This was a miserable way to live, he thought. Frustrated, he took off his clothes to get into his pajamas. Before pulling them on however, he paused. Stopped entirely, naked in the cool air of his room. He turned around to look at himself in the full length mirror in the corner. 

His scars stood out at him, ragged and ugly. He shook his head a little, trying to see what Hannibal saw. They had seen each other’s scars many a time during their recovery. Hannibal was marked too - the gunshot wound, the wrist scars, and the large burn on his back courtesy of Mason Verger. And yet, he still carried himself with a dignified grace. Perhaps that is what made him wear the scars and not the scars wear him. 

He tilted his head this way and that way, turning to the side then back to his front. He supposed he had nice arms, corded well despite multiple shoulder injuries impacting his muscle mass. He liked his hair which reminded him of his father, the dark curls one of the last vestiges of family present in him. He was well proportioned too, although certainly shorter than he might have perhaps wanted to be when he was younger. But the scars… It always came back to them.

He groaned aloud. How did people start feeling good about themselves again? He tugged on his pajamas and got into bed, grabbing his phone to scroll through aimlessly until his mind tired itself out. An article caught his attention. It was one of those stupid Cosmo ones that he always saw in doctor’s practices but the headline stood out to him. He raised his eyebrows a little in surprise. Clicking on it, he began to read. Random quotes jumped out at him and seemed to repeat in his brain, over and over again like a mantra. 

> _“In an online survey of Cosmopolitan readers, 38 percent of respondents say they also take private nudes. Why? Well, their reasons are varied and beautiful.”_
> 
> _“I think there’s something really empowering about turning our personal lens onto ourselves in a way that’s private, compassionate, and curious.”_
> 
> _“One survey participant says she takes nudes when she’s experiencing poor body image so she can look back at them later with a fresh and more compassionate perspective. Mindfully reflecting on low self-esteem moments in this way can be a grounding exercise.”_

Will leaned back against his bed frame, considering the article. Taking nudes was not a brand new concept for him but he had never taken one before. Molly had never sent him one either although she had once asked him if he was interested. They had laughed at the idea, both feeling far too old to take such photos or send them. Never had Will considered being the one to take the photos. Perhaps it was a gendered thing, but Molly had never asked for them and the thought had never even crossed his mind. 

A pang went through him at the thought of Molly. Wherever she was, he hoped she was at peace. She had not deserved the way things had ended between them. In any case, he now saw that he had been living a half life, playing at the semblance of normality. Molly and Wally had been props in his little stage play of a family - he had once truly loved her which is why things were better this way. He felt better somehow, lived easier, breathed easier. Things were effortless with Hannibal now that he didn’t have his person suit on. 

He stared down at his phone. Could he really take nudes?

Gingerly, he peeled himself out of his pajamas, taking the time to fold them carefully. Then he stood in front of the mirror, phone in hand, staring at himself. This was mad, he thought. He let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “Okay, you can do this.”

It was, at the end of the day, just a photo. Something no one else was going to see, no matter how embarrassing it was. Grimacing a little, he pointed the phone at the mirror and took a full body photo. He looked at it, a little scared of what he would find. His first impression was that he looked uncomfortable. His second impression was that it was a really bad photo taken at an awful angle. His third impression was...that once he looked past all of that, he didn’t look as bad as he had initially thought.

Yes his scars were there, but also they weren’t as big or as ugly as he had imagined. The one on his forehead was hidden by his hairline and could barely be seen. The one on his cheek had blended into his stubble and was silvered from time in the sun. The ones in his shoulders were the ugliest but also relatively small and easily ignored. The largest scar was Hannibal’s smile, but that was also the most intimate and the one Will was the most used to. It was hard not to be. For four years it had been his most faithful companion. He deleted the photo.

Squaring his shoulders, he looked back into the mirror, this time with more determination. On a whim, he strode over to the window and opened the curtain to let the moonlight in. He went back to the mirror and looked at himself critically. Will knew Hannibal drew him - he had seen the sketchpad filled with studies of his hair curling after a shower, his hands tying flies, the curve of his mouth around a fork, the bulk of his bicep. He had seen how Hannibal was obsessed with the interplay between light and dark in the lines of his body. Will tilted himself so a swathe of moonlight fell across his torso and took a photo. 

This time, even he had to admit he looked good. Perhaps not how he had looked before certainly, but older and maybe a bit surer of himself. If he changed the way he viewed himself then the scars made him look interesting, more dangerous, a man not to be crossed. While he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, he knew that idea would compel Hannibal. Absentmindedly, he turned this way and that, taking more photos, even smiling shyly in a few of them at the thought of what he was doing.

Shaking his head at his own antics, Will stepped back into his pajamas and closed the curtains. He slid into bed, thumbing through the photos, deleting the ones he didn’t like. Finally he was left with three and decided to put them in a secret folder where no one could accidentally stumble upon them. He selected the three but when he went to add them to the folder, Callie barked outside. Will’s concentration slipped as he looked up at the sound and he accidentally pressed the button that showed Hannibal’s contact. When he looked down, to his horror, he saw that he had sent all three photos to Hannibal instead.

He heard the phone ping from Hannibal’s room, ringtone loud in the silence of the night.

* * *

Hannibal was sketching the view from his window. Their cottage sat atop a hill and overlooked vast green and grassy pastures dotted with small homes. In the distance was the sea which appeared as a lovely and hazy blue most mornings. In the night however, everything was bathed in black and grey, and the few scant sources of light from afar seemed to stand out like splashes of colour on a blank canvas. Life was currently a source of great nourishment for Hannibal; everyday he woke to the sounds of Will shuffling in his bedroom, and every night they said good night at their bedroom doors, smiles on their faces, satiated after a good meal and even better conversation. If he wanted anything more, he did not let himself yearn for it. After all, whatever he had now was more that he could have ever imagined. More than he thought he could ever have. 

Once he had dreamed of a life like this with Will. Not here in Canada but in Florence, Abigail by their side. They had left so many shattered teacups in their wake, it was remarkable that this one remained unbroken. Once he had feared what Will could do to him, feared his influence over him, but three years in the BSHCI had led to this and Hannibal was no longer afraid. If God existed then he chose not to punish those who sinned otherwise Hannibal would not have Will Graham by his side. 

As he heard Calypso bark outside, his phone pinged. There were only two people who knew his number - one was most likely asleep in the room next to him, the other was currently in Japan. Hannibal wondered why Chiyoh needed to contact him so late at night. Vaguely concerned at the thought of Chiyoh in the midst of some sort of emergency, he checked his phone to see the notification for three photo messages sent from Will Graham. How curious. 

He unlocked his phone as he heard a furious knocking on his bedroom door.

“Hannibal!” came Will’s voice, a little frantic. “Don’t look at your messages, I sent them to you by mistake!”

But it was too late. 

Hannibal blinked a couple of times to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Will had sent him photos of himself. Specifically, nude photos. And evidently, by accident. The photos showed a Will encased in shadows with an illuminating sliver of light falling across his chest and abdomen, highlighting the scar he had left on him the night he left for Florence. He had seen Will in states of undress before, of course, once in Florence when he had dressed Will following his shooting by Chiyoh, and once in Wolf Trap after they escaped Muskrat Farm. Both times, Hannibal had taken care to respect Will’s privacy, dressing him with efficiency and a practiced detachment.

And now here was Will, in front of him, bare. There was a shyness in his eyes as he looked at himself in the mirror, a sweet smile on his face. The scar on his cheek seemed almost silvery, alchemical and dangerous. His stubble made him blend into the darkened corners of the room which only made his eyes stand out more. Will was muscled well, biceps strong, forearms veined and slender. His chest was hairless but his armpits, shins and forearms were not. His torso was pale where Hannibal’s was tanned, with slight definition leading to a small swell at his belly. The scar was a prominent feature, a jagged stroke of lightning, powerful and fragile at the same time. His legs were strong too, thighs corded like a warrior’s. And at their apex lay his cock, soft yet still a respectable length. Hannibal swallowed. 

“Hannibal?” came Will’s voice uncertainly. “Hannibal, are you awake? I can see your light is on.”

Hastily, he closed the app on his phone and locked it. Will didn’t want him to see this. He put his phone back on the nightstand and opened the door.

Will stood there, panicked and redfaced.

“Hannibal, you didn’t um - that is to say, have you, did you look at your phone?” he asked, the words practically tumbling out of him and tripping over each other. 

“Will…”

The truth must have been apparent on his face because Will blushed redder than ever and his eyes seemed to dash at almost everything but Hannibal’s face.

“Oh god,” he muttered, turning away and putting a hand on his face.

“Will,” he said, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulder. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have looked - it’s just, I saw them before I heard you tell me not to and by then it was too late.”

Will looked shocked.

“ _You’re sorry?”_ he asked incredulously. “I’m the one who just sent you unsolicited nudes!” 

“As you said earlier, it was an accident.”

“Yes but it happened all the same. God, I must have made you so uncomfortable,” he said, anguished and embarrassed.

In the future, Hannibal would look back on this moment and thank himself for the moment of honesty. If he had not said what came next then perhaps things would have turned out very differently.

“Uncomfortable is not the phrase I would use to describe my current state of being, Will.”

Everything seemed to hang still for a moment. Will turned to stare at his face, incredulity fading away into something inscrutable. Hannibal wondered if he had gone too far, said too much.

“And what is the phrase you would use to describe your current state of being, Hannibal?”

He had always loved the way Will said his name. He did not think there was a single other person in the world in whose mouth his name had fit better.

“I think you know.”

“Enlighten me, Doctor.”

Hannibal stepped in closer to Will. He could smell the laundry detergent on his clothes, soft and floral, the chemical tang of the mousse from his curly hair, the grapefruit and bergamot soap on his skin, soft now and tinged with clean sweat. Will’s eyelashes fluttered a little. He glanced up at Hannibal and licked his lips. A clear invitation.

“Will,” he exhaled a little shakily, then bent down and pressed his lips to his. They were soft, plush, a little wet with Will’s saliva, and immediately responsive. Hannibal pulled back to look at Will, just to make sure that they were okay, that this was alright. Will’s eyes were closed and his lips parted, his breaths coming damply. With a groan, Hannibal kissed him again, pushing him until he was backed up against the hallway wall. 

He ran his fingers through Will’s hair as he pressed kisses all over his face. He kissed the scar on his forehead, he kissed the scar on his cheek. Then he kissed the opposite cheekbone and back up to his forehead. He kissed those lips, tasting Will again and again, running his tongue over his lips seeking entrance, sampling the sweetness of that mouth. Will’s hands were all over his body, running down his back and across his shoulders, tugging the back of his hair. He held one hand against the back of Hannibal’s neck and tilted his head slightly, opening his mouth a little. How could Hannibal resist?

He pressed Will more firmly into the wall until their bodies were flush with one another and Will had nowhere to go. He was hard in his sleep pants, a warm thickness against Hannibal’s thigh. He groaned at the sensation, the image of Will's cock flickering behind his eyelids. He slipped his tongue into Will’s mouth and reached down to grab his ass, grasping inside his pajamas to fondle each globe.

Breaking away from his mouth, Will moaned. 

Hannibal adjusted his grip, pushing his leg forward between Will's and pulled him forward, encouraging him to grind against the length of his thigh.

“Ohhhh,” Will groaned at the friction, hips shuddering backwards and forwards.

He attached his mouth to Will’s neck, sucking and biting kisses along the pale column, leaving little bites every now and then just to see the indentations of his teeth reddening that beautiful, unmarred skin. All the while Will panted uncontrollably, his breath hot against Hannibal’s neck, his arms around his shoulders, now grinding unashamedly against him. It felt indescribably good to have Will in his arms, suffering in the throes of the pleasure only Hannibal could give to him. 

Hannibal let go of Will’s ass with one hand and unbuttoned Will’s pajama top, attaching his mouth to each patch of newly revealed skin. He ran his tongue along Will’s collarbones, and nosed back up to the muscle in his neck, biting gently and worrying the skin until an impressive bruise bloomed like a flower. 

“Ohhh, Hannibal,” said Will, throwing his head back at the mix of pleasure and pain. Hannibal reached down to grab Will's leg, lifting it and wrapping it around his waist while thrusting forward.

The effect was immediate. 

Will’s eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned so loudly that he heard Calypso bark in response down the hallway.

“Does this answer your question, Will?” he asked thrusting harder, pushing and pulling Will across his body, grinding his erection hard into Will’s abdomen. “Do you understand now the current state of my being?”

“Hannibal,” he moaned. “Ohhhh, Hannibal.”

“Yes Will, yes. I’ve got you.”

Letting go of Will’s ass, he grabbed his arms, disengaging the hands that clutched at his shoulders and brought them between their bodies. With a gentleness that contrasted with the roughness of his thrusts, he raised Will’s hands to his mouth and kissed each palm. He entwined his fingers with Will’s, leaning back until they were staring at each other’s eyes, pressing Will’s arms into the wall.

“No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed, Will.”

“Are you the fire or are you the human?” asked Will, hips jerking, his leg tight and pulling Hannibal into him.

“Touch me Will and you will see how you make me burn.”

At his words, Will dropped his leg and braced himself. Using their entwined hands as leverage, he flipped Hannibal around so that he had his back to the wall.

“Stay,” he said, smiling slightly.

He reached down with one hand and somewhat shakily lowered Hannibal’s sleep pants along with his own, thrusting his hips forward so their cocks touched.

“Mmmmm,” groaned Hannibal in satisfaction, tilting his head back until it hit the wall with a thunk, the sensation exquisite. 

Will wrapped their still joined hands around their cocks, and thrust hard, kissing Hannibal with a fervour that was almost feverish. The grip was too loose, the friction too dry, but they were both leaking precum and it soon slicked the way. Hannibal tightened his hands around the two of them and Will groaned into his mouth. He kissed down Hannibal’s neck, tender butterfly touches that ignited a fire in his belly with their softness. He reached the V of the neck of Hannibal’s sweater and with sudden passion, bit hard at the skin in between his collarbones.

“Ah!” he exclaimed at the sting of pain.

Will had one hand braced against the wall and now thrust harder and harder, hips working in grinding motions. He tongued the bite mark and worried the skin there until he was satisfied. Abruptly, he pulled away and grabbed the bottom of Hannibal’s sweater. 

“Up,” he commanded, ripping Hannibal’s hand away from their dicks, and tugged it off, throwing it down onto the floor somewhere.

“Will,” he protested at the treatment of his clothes, but his words were soon lost in an inelegant garble as Will reached down to stroke their cocks again while now tonguing his nipple. Sparks of pleasure shot down his spine as Will swirled his tongue around the rapidly hardening nub. With his other hand he twisted Hannibal’s other nipple. Hannibal closed his eyes, the sight of Will’s bent head over his chest, the raven curls cascading over the reddened skin of his neck too much to take. Will left his nipple spit slicked and hot, and moved onto the other one, growling a little as he sucked on it. The sound raised goosebumps across the hair on Hannibal’s forearms and he shivered. He ground one hand into Will’s curls and held on, unknowing whether he wanted to pull Will closer or push him away. 

He reached down to grab Will’s ass again, fondling his cheeks before rubbing two dry fingers over his hole.

Will groaned and jerked forward, rougher than before, the heads of their cocks catching, and bit down on Hannibal's nipple. 

“Oh fuck,” he swore, as Hannibal saw stars, the friction perfect, the pain a beautiful counterpoint.

“Will,” he moaned, clawing at the other man. “Will, take your shirt off.” 

Will stopped and suddenly disengaged from Hannibal. He looked a little hunted.

“What’s wrong?” asked Hannibal, confused at the sudden change in mood.

Will hesitated.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Hannibal blinked a little, uncomprehending. 

“Yes, of course I'm sure.” 

Gingerly, Will unbuttoned his shirt and slid out of it, pressing himself up against Hannibal quickly and hiding his face in his neck. Hannibal pulled him into his chest and hugged him, petting his hair, and stroking down his back. He admired the knobs of his spine, the smooth and soft skin, the shifting muscles.

“What is the matter, Will?” he asked.

Will was worryingly silent for a few long moments. Then-

“I hate the way my scars look.”

His confession was softly murmured and ashamed. Hannibal pushed him away, hands on Will’s shoulders, looking at his distressed face.

“Your scars are a part of who you are Will. They tell our story.”

“You don't think they look ugly?” Will asked, his voice plaintive.

Hannibal was so shocked that he couldn't speak for a moment. A muscle worked in his jaw.

“Have I ever made you feel ugly, Will?” he asked finally.

“No,” said Will immediately, trying to reassure him. “No, you’ve never done anything like that.”

“There is not a single part of you, physical or otherwise, that I find unattractive Will, let alone ugly.”

Will stared at him the way he did sometimes when he thought Hannibal wasn't looking, like he was a puzzle he was trying to solve, like he was a particularly complicated knot he was trying to untangle. He looked at Hannibal as though he was a man that, despite all of Will’s empathy and understanding of human behaviour, could always manage to surprise him. 

“You really mean that, don't you?” asked Will, wonder filling his voice, a soft look in his eyes.

“I really do,” affirmed Hannibal simply.

Will leaned forward and kissed Hannibal, this time gently, feather light. Hannibal kissed his jaw in response, his neck, his collarbone, until he reached Will’s shoulder. He kissed the bullet wound from Chiyoh and the stab wound from Dolarhyde. 

“I love you,” he murmured.

Will shuddered.

He kissed across Will’s chest, wet and licking, until he reached his other shoulder. He kissed Jack’s bullet wound and the stab wound Will had received as a police officer.

“I love you.”

Lowering himself to his knees, he nuzzled Will’s belly and kissed one corner of his own scar, his favourite. Will steadied himself, one hand against the wall and one on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal scratched down the trail of hair on Will’s groin and kissed his way across the scar, tonguing the slight bumps and ridges. 

“I love you.”

“Hannibal,” moaned Will, fingers digging in hard enough to leave a bruise.

Hannibal lowered his head and stared at Will’s erect cock. It was now larger than it had been in the photo Will had sent. He took it into his mouth.

“Ahhh, oh shit, Hannibal!” 

He hummed in pleasure at Will’s reactions, drinking him in, kneeling at the altar of his God. Pressing soft kisses over the pink flesh, he worked his way down to Will’s balls, laving over them, pulling each one individually into his mouth. He set his nose next to Will’s groin and inhaled the heavy musk of him, purer and clearer here than anywhere else.

Will laughed.

“Did you just _smell_ me?” he asked.

“Difficult to resist,” he murmured truthfully, licking and sucking a hickey into the join where Will’s groin met his thigh. Will laughed and moaned and jerked his hips and it was the most beautiful thing Hannibal had ever seen or heard.

“You are everything I have ever wanted Will,” confessed Hannibal. “I have never seen a more beautiful person in my life. I am utterly devoted to you - say the word and I will follow.”

“Oh, Hannibal,” said Will, eyes shining. “I love you too.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, Hannibal pressed kisses all over Will’s hips in response. He licked over Will’s thighs and kneaded the muscles of his ass. When Will was moaning and writhing in frustration, he ducked back down and licked a stripe up his cock, massaging the prominent vein underneath. Hannibal sucked the head of Will’s dick, rubbing his tongue along the sensitive skin and swallowing the steadily leaking precum. Will moaned, hips straining to move forward, his self control even now impressive. Hannibal wanted to shatter it. 

He laid one hand across Will’s stomach scar, stroking possessively, while the other went around Will’s hips, encouraging him to thrust forward and use Hannibal’s mouth. Meanwhile he took a deep breath and slid down the length of Will’s cock until his nose touched the hair surrounding the base of his dick.

“Ohhhhhh,” said Will, hips now jerking.

Hannibal gagged, throat working against Will’s dick, drool pooling around his lips and running down his jaw. He leaned down and took his own penis in hand, moaning at the welcome relief. He pulled back and pushed forward several times, taking Will from root to tip again and again, deepthroating him and working his own cock in unison. Will’s hands cradled his head and tugged at his hair, pulling him back as he panted.

Hannibal stared up at Will, a penitent man at prayer, as Will catalogued Hannibal’s sex flush, drooling red wet mouth, shiny eyes and hard cock disappearing and reappearing through the hole in his fist. 

“Use me,” he said, voice hoarse.

With a growl, Will tugged Hannibal back onto his dick. Hannibal went readily, opening his mouth and accepting what he was given, stroking himself at the pleasure of servicing Will. He palmed Will’s ass as his mouth was stuffed full of turgid flesh, sucking each time Will pulled back. 

“Oh fuck,” moaned Will. “That’s it, Hannibal.”

Hannibal moaned at the praise, letting the vibrations travel along Will’s sensitive cock.

Will thumbed Hannibal’s mouth, stroking his lips, watching his cock disappear inside that lush wetness. He thrust hard and pulled Hannibal in against his groin, holding him there for several seconds as he gagged and choked. When Will let him go, he inhaled heavily, gasping and panting.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Again,” Hannibal demanded.

Will obliged, pulling him back in, fucking his face carefully yet with a quiet force. Hannibal breathed through his nose and moaned. He felt totally owned, totally desired. Never had he slept with someone who saw him, all of him, who loved him because of it. It was a new form of intimacy, an overwhelming one. Tears pricked his eyes at the thought. All he could smell was Will, all he could see was his face contorted in pleasure, all he could hear were the lewd sounds of his cock in Hannibal’s mouth, his grunts and moans and cut off words of praise. Hannibal’s head swam as he stroked himself faster and faster, letting himself be used. 

His jaw felt sore but he had never felt better in his life. Will’s fingers scratched at his scalp and cradled his face. He felt like a precious thing, cherished and so, so loved.

“Close,” Will panted out.

Hannibal’s hand sped up, matching Will’s thrusts, feeling a tingle down his spine at the thought of Will coming in his mouth. Will’s thrusts grew sloppy and frantic, and Hannibal felt the familiar curl of orgasm begin in his stomach. He let Will use him as he liked and chased his own release, fucking hard into his own fist and squeezing.

He came with a groan, splattering cum all over the hardwood flooring, hips jerking, body shaking, with Will’s cock in his mouth, his pajama pants still half on and half off. 

“Oh fuck, Hannibal,” moaned Will. “Did you just come?” 

Hannibal could only moan in response.

“Jesus, that's so hot, so fucking hot.”

Will readjusted his grip and thrust forward half a dozen more times before pulling Hannibal all the way down and holding him there, come filling his mouth. He groaned, his orgasm sounding almost pained and intense. Hannibal choked a little, hands now braced against Will’s thighs as a salty and bitter flavour spread inside his mouth. Will let his head go and Hannibal breathed deeply as he swallowed, ignoring the trails of cum falling down his chin. Before he could so much as speak, Will hauled him up, kissing him hard and tasting himself in Hannibal’s mouth. 

Hannibal ran his hands down Will’s bare back, smearing his own cum on his skin as Will placed his hand possessively over the Verger brand. 

When he pulled back, Will pushed their heads together, just resting against him, breaths mingling. He rubbed at the stray cum on Hannibal and smeared it around rather than removing it.

“Feeling possessive, Will?”

“Over you? Always.” 

Hannibal smiled. A thought entered his mind.

“Why did you took the nudes?” he asked. “To get familiar with your body with the scars?”

Will huffed, shaking his head a little.

“Do you ever stop psychoanalysing?” he asked fondly.

“Am I right?”

Will paused. 

“Yes.”

“Did it work?” he asked, curious.

“I'm not sure, Doctor,” replied Will teasingly. “I think further experimentation is required.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Kiss It Better by Rihanna!
> 
> The prompt was accidental nudes!!
> 
> The article Will reads is a real one published in [Cosmo](https://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a29504461/reasons-to-take-nude-photos/).
> 
> Will and Hannibal's dog is named Calypso but Will calls her Callie and Hannibal uses her given name.
> 
> "No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed," is a quote from Possession by A.S. Byatt.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked what you read! More to come!
> 
> Come follow me on tumblr @snailmailthings [here](http://www.snailmailthings.tumblr.com)!


End file.
